Rise of the Blood by Lucienne Diver Page A

take it personally. Dad was the least touchy-feely guy I knew. Pretty ironic for someone whose livelihood and welfare depended on making contact—catching and being caught during the family acrobatic act. Maybe that was it. With life and death on the line there, maybe all other contact felt gratuitous. But Mom sure didn’t feel that way. She more than made up for him. And gods knew Spiro was touchy-feely enough for them both.
    I hugged her back hard. It was so good seeing her again. It’d been hard when circumstances forced me to leave the Rialto Bros. Circus behind. I could have fought for my place, but…I think we’d all known I never really belonged.
    When Dad dropped out of the hug and Mom finally let me go, I found I had tears in my eyes. I wiped them quickly away and introduced Nick, who was treated to a handshake from my father—two pumps and done—and a warm embrace from my mother.
    “We were so glad when Tori found someone to keep her out of trouble,” Mom said, looking earnestly into Nick’s eyes. Mom was a petite woman, weighing in at maybe a hundred pounds—less after sweating some off in a performance. She had mounds of dark hair, brown eyes, long lashes and a heart-shaped face. People wanted to protect her. Me, that was a whole ’nother matter.
    I shot Nick an amused glance, which he mirrored back to me. “Well, I try, ma’am, but it isn’t easy.”
    “And who is this?” Dad barked, jutting a chin at Jesus, who smiled, bowed deeply and introduced himself.
    “I’m Jesus, Christos and Tori’s executive assistant at the agency. When trouble calls, I’m the one who takes the message.”
    I didn’t think that came out quite the way he’d intended, since it didn’t puff up his importance the way he liked. I blamed jet lag.
    “Shall we?” he asked.
    Christos made an “after you” gesture, and Jesus led the way to the meeting room—where I was jumped immediately upon entering.
    “ There you are!” Tina said, mugging me. I’d have called it a hug, but her arms were like steel bands propelling me forward, leaving the others in the dust. “Come on, they want to meet my bridesmaids.”
    “ They?”
    She paused in her manhandling to give me a quick once over. “You look good, except for some puffiness around the eyes. Flying always makes me water-retentive too. Don’t worry, we’ve got a cream for that. Remind me to give you a sample.”
    I bucked out of her embrace. “Good to see you too. Congratulations, by the way.”
    Just like that, the disapproval left her face, and she beamed like a prison searchlight. “Sorry. I’m just…nervous. I want everything to be perfect, and I know the film stuff is paying for my dream wedding, but…OMG, the stress!”
    A young blond man with a pompadour, a shiny vest and a clipboard bustled up to us. “This the last bridesmaid?” he asked, giving me the same critical stare I’d gotten from Tina. “Let’s get her with the others.”
    It was his turn to hustle me about the room…or try to, anyway. When I growled, he drew back his arm and instead crowded me toward Althea and Junessa.
    He eyed the three of us—the Amazon, the wispy wood nymph and me , the wild woman, probably still smelling of onions and tzatziki sauce. His face scrunched when he looked at me, but all he said was, “I can work with this.”
    This .
    “ Hello . Living, breathing person right in front of you,” I snapped.
    “As if I could miss you breathing,” he sniped back.
    Damned onions.
    “Okay,” he said, clapping to get our attention as if we were wayward children. “Tomorrow you’re due at eleven a.m. sharp for hair and makeup,” he said to Althea and Junessa. He pointed to Tina and then to me. “You and you, ten a.m. You’re getting the works.”
    I started to protest that I’d just gotten “the works”, courtesy of Christie, and I still wasn’t over it, but Tina looked so happy that I bit it back. Not my day, not my day , I chanted over and over to